Let Go
by Dean'sNerdyAngel
Summary: Dean struggles with Cas's death, trying not to cry. A little Destiel.


**ANGST ANYONE? So, while all you current Dean haters over the last 2 episodes seethe, enjoy some angst that happened but you don't know it. Shh.  
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><p>It was annoying, really, how emotions and memories flood your mind all over again right when you feel safe. That is, if you could feel safe when you're leg is broken and there's some crazy ass monsters looking to eat you.<p>

But it was better than standing in the rubble of the place you called home for a few years. Home, to him, was not just a place you spent your time in, researching hunts and recovering from the horrible things he saw, and felt. It was the fact that he always felt safe there. And his family was there. Bobby's house was the one place that they could meet up in and think, "maybe if I just spend a little time with grumpy Bobby and puppy eyed Sam, everything will be okay for a little while."

Then came Sam. He seemed better with his hallucinations, or at least Dean thought so. On the drive to the safe house, he'd flinch, grimace, and press against his hand stitches. Dean was too high on morphine to nag him about it. There was so much shit between him and his brother recently, whether they admitted it or not, that it could fill the damn Grand Canyon.

The biggest thing that ate Dean's heart, though, was one nerdy angel in a trench coat. Sam didn't know this, but he had stashed the soaking wet trenchcoat in the backseat of the Impala. When they were unloading, Dean had slapped Sam's offer of help with a few choice words that even John freaking Winchester would frown upon, and grabbed it, hiding it inside his jacket as he made his way to the house on those shitty crutches.

Sam was finally, FINALLY, asleep, leaning against the hard chair and head lolling to the side, mouth open in mid-drool. Old habits never die, Dean thought, trying to amuse himself. Because there really wasn't much Dean could laugh about. Cas was dead, and...

Now, why the fuck should he be tearing up over Cas? He'd betrayed them, nearly ended the world, not to mention almost killing Sam and he, swallowed up all those souls, claimed to be God and killed some innocent (dicks), and had released some ass-hats called Leviathan as a consequence of his actions.

There was no reason Dean should feel bad. Cas would be a distant memory by tomorrow, they'd be kicking the Leviathan's ass as soon as Bobby figured out that impossible solution. Normally, when dealing with this kind of stuff, when the internet or old books failed to help, they'd be...

Calling Cas.

Dean swallowed hard and felt instantly guilty. Cas had done everything for he and Sam. He'd risked it all, made mistakes that both Dean and Sam would make when trying to save something desperately. They'd been through the goddamn Apocalypse together, and they stopped it.

He smiled. Just two brothers, an old drunk, and an angel.

Why did that seemingly unbreakable trust break? When? Why wasn't Cas popping up in random places and greeting him with that curious, "Hello, Dean."

Why did Cas have to die now? When Dean was nearing the breaking point that only Bobby seemed to notice? Could Sam tell he was hurting? He hoped not. The last thing Dean wanted to do was have another "give up" scenario like during the Micheal business.

The angel was his.

His best friend. How many times had Dean ignored that? He hated himself for it. Cas had spent the last few seconds with one last thing. Forgiveness. And what had Dean done? He just said, "okay".

Dean opened his eyes. The tears he'd been squeezing shut now rolled freely down his cheeks, and Dean lay staring at the ceiling as quiet tears continued to cascade down his face. Finally, when he realized that he needed some reassurance, he reached under the couch, and, sniffling, pulled out the trenchcoat. It was dry now, and to Dean's surprise, it was clean of blood. His head whipped to Sam. Of course the jerk had done that. It was warm, and although it smelled of soap, he buried his face into the coat, trying to stop a sob while inhaling. It didn't work. Muffled sob's shook Dean's shoulders, and he was sure he'd never be able to stop until he bled dry.

He kept hugging the trenchcoat like it was lifeline. And right now, maybe it was. Because his angel was gone, and even though it'd been a few days, it felt like forever.

**Ya like it? I was avoiding writing this because well, its hard to write so much goddamn emotion. **


End file.
